Kailey Rooke, timid accountant, dedicated to philanthropic work, finds herself spiraling into a deep depression after she suffers a horrifyingly odd and humiliating assault, to only discover more of these freakish assaults occurring across the globe.

A chance discovery leads Kailey to a meeting with elderly Gunthreon, actual master of persuasion. Gunthreon, who seems to know too much of Kailey's history for her liking, opens Kailey's eyes to a coexisting realm she never knew existed: Renhala, while entrusting her with the knowledge of her newfound power as karmelean, serving as a beacon to the Higher Ones. Kailey slowly starts revealing new talents, and Gunthreon is fascinated with what she starts achieving.

She soon discovers that Renhala is in danger, and this danger has been leaking into her own realm. As she uncovers secrets within herself, and attempts to toughen up, she fuses with an unlikely band of fellow travelers (including a dragon, woodsprite, six-hundred-pound greble, her faithful female canine companion, and a "giver"), falls into an unexpected love triangle, deals with her sexy and flirtatious best friend’s “issues,” and finds the courage to master a new deadly weapon.

On her mission to save Renhala, Kailey will find herself running from life-threatening disasters, such as greble Tartarin, who likes to remind Kailey that when he catches her, he plans on eating her brains with ice cream; she'll run from the deadly meeples: small cute bunnies with talons and an undeniable thirst for imposing self-destruction on others. Kailey will also run into the possibility that a centuries-old Renhalan rumor is true, that advanced technology existing in Kailey's realm shortens all life spans.

As blood is shed and puzzles near completion, Kailey pulls from deep within herself, conjuring up mystical qualities that enable her to astonish as once predicted at her birth, but despite the newfound strength, Kailey will discover that monsters not only come in ugly packages, but can be easily disguised as those she has come to love and trust.

Excerpt

Six
o’clock means she’ll be here at seven, and that gives me plenty of time to get
ready. I can hardly believe I’m the one who initiated a night out, but I’m
riding the minute possibility that a few really strong, dirty martinis will
crumble a few emotional walls of mine tonight. I’m willing to give it a try,
but damn well know the probable outcome: me sitting, totally sober, while
already-drunk Amber downs the countless drinks bought for her from
overly-anxious meatheads.

I
switch on the radio and get dressed while lightly shuffling to “Good
Vibrations,” by Marky Mark. As I check myself out in the bathroom mirror, I
stare, unhappy with the somewhat low-cut shirt I chose—too revealing. While
taking the shirt off, I bend over to plug the iron back in, and then the power
suddenly goes out, engulfing me in total darkness.

I
freeze for a brief two seconds. Then whirl about, using my hands as eyes in the
darkness, searching for any weapons in my bathroom. Realizing that two previous
nights ago I walked away with a pocket knife usually stored in the medicine
cabinet, I grab my cuticle scissors in one hand and my hairspray in the other.
Kioto had only been moaning in her sleep that night I moved the knife, but it
sounded so alien. Alien. Alien-like
grunting.

The
guttural sound of grunting from my assaulter’s throat echoes through my mind as
I stand motionless, frozen from fear, remembering the noise as he tore off my
cotton panties the day of the assault. I
lay there, on my stomach, on top of my newly made bed, staring at Bear—a
feeling of despair so great and overpowering pulsing through me. I also
remember, too painfully, the blood-curdling scream that escaped my throat as I
pleaded to anyone listening, a higher being even, to please save me. Don’t
let this happen to me. This shouldn’t be happening to me. I
wouldn’t survive feeling that hopeless again.

After
my eyes adjust, and as I wait for the sound of footsteps or breathing, I hear
neither, so I peek around the door and see Kioto lying on the ground, head
turned toward me—possibly perturbed by the roaring sounds emanating from my
chest. I walk, shakily, with weapons still in hand, toward the window and I see
the whole block is out. A quick check toward the sky reveals the approaching
storm. I collapse on my couch and cry like a baby, doubting my ability to
function like a normal human being ever again. Kioto walks toward me, and
slowly licks my blackened tears from my face. “Thanks, baby,” I say as I
snuggle into her and regain my normal breathing.

I
wipe my running mascara from my face and gather my composure. A glance at the
clock tells me that Amber should be here soon. Sooner than I can fix my makeup,
the power goes back on, giving me another heart attack when “Kung Fu Fighting”
starts blaring throughout the apartment. What a wonderful start to the evening.

Amber
arrives at 7:15 and lets
herself in with the key I gave her last week, which was supposed to be for
emergencies only. She is absolutely stunning. Her long, straight blond hair
complements the lime-green baby-doll dress and her black stilettos. She’s only
five foot three, so the extra four and a half inches brings her closer to eye
level, but not for long. I decide to wear my knee length, heeled, black boots
with my new taupe silk tank top and black pants. I grab my father’s ring off my
dresser and slip it into my pocket.

She
stares at me and says, “Girl, I need some of that leg length. If you die, can
you donate your legs to me?” I laugh and tell her only if she shares some of
the endowment on her chest. She’s about a thirty-two E, compared to my
thirty-four B.

“You
sure you’re ready to do this?” She emanates sincerity.

I
shake my head no as the tears fill my eyes and I grab my purse.About the AuthorBorn in Chicago, Illinois, a few days prior to watching her first movie, at a drive-in theater. Yes, drive-in theater. And yes, her mother believed she was possessed by the devil after said first movie.Grew up in the Chicagoland area and graduated from the University of Illinois, Champaign-Urbana, where she simply became a number, but decided it was a good number.Loves cooking (mostly candy-cooking), gardening (putting holes in the ground for perennials, DONE!), designing and constructing jewelry (everything from silversmithing to lampworking), and living with her wonderful husband, two children, black Labrador, and frog—and maybe even the chipmunk family that likes to destroy her aforementioned perennials.Also hopes that you enjoy her writings, and won’t criticize her for her aversion of eating things in multiples of three.

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